Page 83 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
Finn’s dirty hand touched her knee. “’Tis not yer fault yer father coddled ye.”
“I know, but . . . it’s sad that I did not see it as such, even when I looked out my carriage window and saw that others did not live as I did. I helped my mother with charities, but nothing compared to the sacrifices that the people in this cave make every day.”
Finn said nothing, and Cat was wondering if confessing her own secret had been the right thing to do. She glanced up to see the little girl pondering her village.
“I’ve told his lairdship,” Cat said, “and he doesn’t hate me. You could tell him your secret, too.”
Finn gave her a piercing look, then said sadly, “I’ll be . . . a girl with boys, weak.” Her thin shoulders hunched again. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it.” Bracing her hands on her thighs, Cat stood up. “I’ll leave you to your make-believe. Pretending everything is okay can be a lot easier than facing the truth. We both know that.”
Cat felt a little disoriented as she left the burn. She saw the women working together, and just couldn’t face pretending nothing was wrong. She donned her cloak and went outside. The mist hadn’t dissipated, and the chill dampness made her hug herself. As she always did when she needed to think, she went toward the paddock, but before she reached it, she heard a thunder of horses’ hooves and saw two clansmen duck past the trees and ride into the clearing, pulling up short when they spied Duncan. She hadn’t even realized he was out there. She moved deeper into the trees, intending to leave them alone, when she heard a breathless Angus speak as he dismounted.
“Laird Carlyle, ye’re needed for a newly arrived shipment.”
Cat froze.
“Whisky?” Duncan asked quietly.
Both men nodded.
“I’ll go,” Duncan said. “Get some food and rest.”
Duncan saddled his horse, but instead of going back inside the cave, he mounted and departed. Cat realized that the whisky shipments must not be hidden very far away, if he didn’t even bother with supplies. Feeling bold and deserving of the truth, she quickly saddled the mare she preferred and rode off after him.
Duncan rode several hours, lost in thought about Catriona, about Finn, about the decisions that weren’t so easy to make. But he was aware that a solitary horseman was following him.
As the ground began to level out, and the trees grew thicker the closer he got to Loch Lomond, he led the man away from his true destination and looked for a place to surprise him. The dense trees near the loch made that relatively easy, and soon he was hidden behind a tree, still mounted on Arran, his sword drawn, ready to run down the villain from behind.
The horse cantered past him down the path, its rider leaning forward, obviously looking for him. And then he saw the dark hair of a woman piled high, her cloak falling back from her shoulders to cover the horse’s flanks. Since she straddled the horse, her skirts were lifted, displaying supple calves.
Catriona.
She came to a stop in the clearing beyond the trees, swiveling her head in confusion.
“Looking for me?” Duncan asked, urging his horse out of the trees.
She twisted in the saddle, her eyes wide.
“Why have ye been lurking behind me for hours?” Duncan demanded.
“Because I wasn’t certain it was you,” she said, her expression an attempt at seriousness.
“Try again,” he commanded coolly.
She wet her lips. “Duncan—”
“Dismount.”
“What?”
“Get off your horse.”
“Are we here?” she asked quickly, looking around.
Through the trees, they could glimpse the smooth surface of the loch, but nothing else.
“Are we where?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “Where did ye think I was going?”
